


i've been awakening

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: AU, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Liverpool F.C., M/M, Tickle Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:18:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4465205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>lazar's cold. emre's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've been awakening

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't even a ship: i get some bizarre ideas sometimes. t hey cute tho

"Hey Em?"

A grunt is heard from the other side of the bed. It's easily distinguishable from the consistent sound of Emre's snoring, meaning that he too was still (barely) awake.

"You're hogging the duvet."

Emre adjusts himself so that some of the gathered quilt is tossed over to Lazar. He accepts it, even though he still feels cold and unprotected. Rubbing his hands together to get some kind of kinetically created heat to warm his fingertips, he sighs and looks over at his noisy partner.

He shifts into his territory and then wraps his arms around Emre's middle, pressing his hands against his abdomen and resting his head on his back. Lazar can hear the thumping rhythm of his heartbeat which seems to be in time with the erratic sound of his snoring, which increases in volume and intensity (if that was even possible) before whittling down into a high pitched wheeze/sigh hybrid. It was, undoubtedly, an irritating noise for Lazar to fall asleep to, but after two years he noticed he couldn't doze off without the repetitive breathing patterns of Emre.

Despite his body temperature noticeably rising, his feet were cold, and rubbing them together weren't helping anymore than rubbing his hands were. Emre could probably warm them up for him-

"Holy shit! The heck, Lazar?"

Emre jerks back mid-snore, sits up and switches on the bedside lamp, nearly all in one movement. Only he does have the tendency to be clumsy, so he ends up toppling over the side of the bed and on the floor, grumbling to himself. Lazar clasps his hand over his mouth, which is obviously wide open in shock, though it is an attempt to stop laughing. He quickly presses his feet into the newly revealed warmth and feels his toes immediately tingle.

"You're like a kid, Laz, seriously."

Emre kneels over and kisses his right foot, which adds on to the warmth, before propping his chin on Lazar's toes. He, in return, quickly changes position so he is lying horizontally on the bed, legs up in the air and face to face with Emre, who is still seated on the floor.

"I don't get it. How comes you're so warm and fuzzy and I'm like a freezer in the Arctic? The radiators are all on and everything. Come on."

"Dunno. Maybe it's got to do with our personalities. The nicer we are, the warmer-"

Emre doesn't manage to finish his sentence, as he's flicked on the forehead.

"I'm kidding, Laz." He nudges Lazar's nose with his own, a grin pulling his lips. Said lips are squished against Lazar's in a half kiss, mouth still open from smiling. Lazar kisses him back, a tiny peck. His lips are dry and cracked and they feel rough to touch, another consequence of winter.

He slips his hands around Emre's neck, and then up into his hair. He runs his fingers through the strands, letting chunks move in and out in waves. Emre shuts his eyes and makes a noise, which _would_ be purring, if he were a cat. As soon as the purring turns into snoring, Lazar lets his fingers ghost over his neck, then starts tickling him, which startles Emre awake.

"Again? You little devil-" He tackles Lazar back onto the bed, immediately attacking his sides and stomach. Lazar shrieks a little too loudly in response, arms and legs flailing. He manages to kick the duvet off the bed too, when Emre grabs both his arms and holds them above his head with one hand while he tickled with the other. They're loud, for two men having a tickle fight like they were five, and it's only when Emre presses a finger to Lazar's lips and shushed him that the room goes silent again. Emre's still laughing- he has that mute kind of laughter that you can see in his face and the way his eyes crinkle but is inaudible.

"Oh my God, Emre, I can't believe you. It's the middle of the night."

"You started it though."

Lazar chuckles. "And you said I was like a kid."

"You are, okay?"

"Yeah? Well you're like a huge baby." He switches positions with Emre so that he's snuggled in with him, head on chest. Emre pulls the quilt off the floor and wraps it around the pair of them.

"Uh, me?" He searches for Lazar's hand, finds it and twines their fingers.

"At least I didn't need a teddy to help me fall asleep- at the age of seventeen," he kisses the back of Lazar's hand.

"His name is Adam, and I'd appreciate you didn't make fun of him-"

"Shut up, Laz." And Emre kisses him again, on his temple, pushing his hair out of his face while he yawns.

Lazar yawns shortly after, nuzzling into Emre's neck, stubble brushing his nose.

They fall asleep in the dim light of the lamp, Emre's snoring and Lazar's heartbeat somehow in sync.


End file.
